


To Become Mute

by Kaittzie (orphan_account)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Creampie, F/M, Masturbation, Public Sex, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Unsafe Sex, safe sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-09-28 06:17:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17177486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Kaittzie
Summary: Iris can't get him out of her head, not after last time. Seems he feels the same way.In which Iris and Noctis have a fun, secret sex life fucking like bunnies, and no one else ever needs to know about it. (Except the poor Leville desk clerk, but who is he gonna tell?)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [i'm a screamer so baby make me a mute](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16042478) by [clairelutra (exosolarmoon)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/exosolarmoon/pseuds/clairelutra), [noxfleuret](https://archiveofourown.org/users/noxfleuret/pseuds/noxfleuret). 



> I thought Lunoct was forever, but apparently this is not so. Hello, Noctris. Have a seat here, by me.

For three nights Iris holds tight to the memories of her wildest fantasies given flesh. Fantasies of his flesh, in the flesh. She giggles at the thought. The sight of her prince, his shirt off, his dick poking out of the front of his jeans, hard and slick and aching just because of her, is her most constant companion through these lonely nights. And the days too, really. 

The sight of him is burned into the space behind her eyes, and is all she sees when she closes them.

She drags shaking fingers across bare thighs, along her naked belly, remembering the way his callouses felt (amazing) against her skin. Her hands are too soft to imitate the years of hard practice and abuse engraved in the ridges of Noct's palms. She experiments with her fingernails, and it's closer, better, combined with the memories whispering across her flesh. Together they're enough to send shivers through her core.

The ache under her belly intensifies with every trail her fingers tease and trace, following the paths he wore into her skin. _Oh Noct, this is what you do to me_ , she thinks, ghosting over one nipple and relishing in the jolt of needy arousal that goes right to her groin. 

This is the easiest part. She can touch and massage and _remember_ all she likes, building and building her arousal until it's painful, and wonderful. It's easy to imagine the drag of his skin against her back, the sweet sweat of sex dripping off him, the press of his cock against her leg. 

Harder to replicate is the suffocating closeness of having another burning body swallowing her frame (she tried masturbating with a blanket over her back but it wasn't the same at all.) She can tease her folds with dainty fingers and pretend with all her heart that it's enough, but pushing further in breaks the illusion of having him pressing at her slit. Nothing compares to the girth of his cock, nothing has the same slide or fit to complete her fantasies of that perfect afternoon. She presses a finger to her clit and imagines the slow push and pull of their sex as she rubs lazy little circles. How wide he stretched her, and the feeling of his blunt tip pushing so deep inside her, she felt it in her lungs. 

How she wishes she had something to fuck herself on.

The only thing in her possession that could even slightly be called phallic is her hairbrush, but even if the girth was similar, the handle had had weird, uncomfortable edges that broke the illusion. The toiletries provided by the Leville are all too short to be safe, or too wide to be insertable, with edges and corners that would tear up her walls.

She's been through all the markets with a metaphorical comb for something, anything, long, hard, and rounded to no avail.

Stars, but his cock was perfect for her. Is it possible to be an addict after one taste of something? Jumped right from curious, to needing years of rehab, she did. Iris Amacitia, Duchess of Insomnia, capable of hiding a crush for so many years, but instantly insatiably thirsty for the Prince's dick in under an hour. And why not? Her family has served his for generations; she's only interested in _serving_ him a little more… personally.

The thought of other ways she could service his cock forms into an idea of taking him with her mouth, his thick cock heavy and warm on her tongue, plus the flushed look of surrender on his face… she short circuits at the thought. Her furious fingers against her clit still as her back spasms under shocks of pleasure signals her body doesn't know what to do with. She whines her lovers name into the dark empty room, panting and whimpering and cherishing the intensity of the orgasm he'll never know he gave her. Painfully empty, the walls of her vagina clench and flutter around a memory of perfection, and stars burst behind her eyelids. 

Six! Stars! Gods of Light and Life, she thinks. He better come back soon!

(But if he doesn't she has a new fantasy to keep her going another night.)

 

….

 

It takes all week. Six nights, and a few days, alone in her bed with her hands and her thoughts and the internet has given Iris a lot of content to work with. She's a girl with a mission and a master of seduction. 

But when Noctis and Gladdy and their friends come back to the Leville damp and dirty and looking particularly exhausted, she knows she won't get a chance alone with him for a few hours at least. He'll want a nap, a shower, and something hot to eat probably. And in that order, if she knows him at all.

It's okay. She's waited this long.

Iris waves and jumps for joy when they stumble into the lobby all the same, and listens to him thank Talcott for the tip just to hear his voice. Then he turns those kind eyes on her, and, down on his good knee like he is, takes her in from the ankles up, dragging his gaze along her legs and waist and bust exactly like she wants him to do with his hands. His eyes aren't kind when they reach her face, but hard and hungry.

“Hey, Iris. Miss us?” His voice is music in her ears. Gravely in a way and like to think is just for her.

She scoffs gently to hide the way her voice wants to crack, and meets his hungry eyes with a look of her own, making sure to bat her lashes at him. (She started cultivating her 'bedroom eyes’ in the bathroom mirror after reading a very enlightening adult article just yesterday.) “You know it.” A small smile, another slow blink, and she knows she's not imagining the way his hungry look tightens.

“What, no hug for your big brother?” Gladdy shatters their moment with his massive arms swinging wide to snap her up, but she dances away, putting Talcott and Noctis between him and her. 

“Eww, no way! Maybe when you're done smelling like the glaives’ locker room.” She fans her nose to make a point and grins at the disappointed face he pulls.

And squeals when he rushes her anyway.

….

She's right. They all pile into their room and don't come out again for several hours. Gladdy appears first, clean, but not looking any more rested, letting himself into the suit she shares with Tally and Jared for a proper obnoxious big brother greeting.

Ignis at least knocks, and then it's just Prompto and Noctis left in the royal suite. 

“Isn't Noct awake yet, Gladdy?” Iris tries not to whine, but she's getting impatient. She's worked her nethers into a drooling mess just from the anticipation of a few minutes alone with her Prince.

Gladdy snorts, “His sleepiness will be out for a while. Never passes up a chance to nap all day.” 

Iris humphs and settles back against her brothers dumb giant arm, because the cushions dipping around Gladio's dumb giant butt _(the bed dipping between her knees, the head of his cock at her entrance)_ force her to lean against him. Ugh. At least he smells better now.

“So… did you guys find the sword?”

“Yee-up,” Gladio hardly looks up from his book. 

“Did you… fight any tough daemons?”

“Nothin’ we couldn't handle.” He turns a page. The clock on the wall ticks steadily, the cooling pipes in the walls hum and rattle faintly. Ignis sits at the table with a mug of something hot and scrolls through his phone.

Iris kicks her legs a little. “Was it hard to find?”

Gladio sighs and drops his book into his lap. “Don't you have something better to do, Iris?”

Grouch... But as a matter of fact...

“Hey, you're in _my_ rooms, dummy... Can't I check on Noct? He'll tell me about your adventures.” 

Gladio rolls his eyes. “Sure, someone ought to make sure he's still breathing.” She snatches the key as quickly as he flourishes it in her direction.

“Thanks, Gladdy!” 

In the hallway, she hikes her skirt up a bit higher and tugs on her vest to maximize her mediocre cleavage before knocking and swiping herself in. Inside, the room is dark. The curtain's drawn over the east facing window. A little bit of ambient light sneaks in around the sides, illuminating the edges of the furniture. It smells like a locker room, and probably will until Ignis can launder the clothes they wore into those caves. The shower is running, but across the room the unmade bed has its sheets all rucked up on one side, like someone recently vacated the spot, and a lump under the blankets on the other side that has to be Noctis.

She wonders if he sleeps nude and flushes a little for her imagination. Her feet make no sound on the softer carpets, but the bed squeaks when she throws herself onto it, just like the one in her room. “Rise and shine, sleepyhead!” The lump jostles along with Iris's bouncing, and groans. “No~ct,” she sings, “everyone else is up, and we're gonna go get them dinner.” She puts a hand on the blankets, to pull away his fabric cocoon, and finds him sadly clothed underneath. But bleary eyed and waking up, at least. “Come on Prince Charming, up and at 'em.” 

He jerks upright sleepily, ratcheting up to balance on his elbows and looking very much like he'll fall back into his pillows if she doesn't do something else. She peels his blankets away, off his legs, and he shivers. Not naked, but he sleeps in boxers. _How cute._ Well, when you share a bed with your best friend, she supposes, anything less would be a little awkward.

Iris sits back, knees folded behind her, and her palms flat against the sheets. Her arms can press her boobs together like this, and hopefully make something alluring of what little she's got to work with. Noctis notices, she thinks, staring rather intently, and Iris feels a flash of vindication. This seduction thing might be easier than she thought. 

In the dark it's impossible to tell if he's interested. Noctis yawns, huge and loud, and sits the rest of the way up. Iris imagines a soft tired smile on his lips. “If you're my wake up call,” he says, sleep making his voice rough and tantalizing, “you're doing great.” He shifts, the mattress protesting his movement and bouncing her in place as he drags himself closer to Iris. “I'm _very up_ …” His hand, warm and callous, finds her knee, and Iris squeaks inadvertently when he squeezes, “... what's next?”

Suddenly Iris can't find her voice. She stammers and feels her core shiver and drip in response to his touch. Oh Gods, dear Six, she wants him. She needs him, right here, right now. The hand on her knee travels up over her thigh, rough skin catching and tickling the fine hairs on her legs, brushes just under the high hem of her skirt and retreats back down to her knee. Drawing in a shuddering breath Iris reaches out, finds his face with her hands and leans in as boldly as she dares for a kiss. It's not the same as before, not the hungry insistent pace he'd surprised her with before the door even shut behind them. This is soft and slow, and makes her hyper aware of where they are and what she's doing and is she doing it right, is this okay? 

Noctis's free hand comes up to her hip, teasing is way beneath her vest, the one caressing her leg delving deeper toward where she needs his touch most. Her own hand cradles Nocts neck like she'd seen done in so many videos. She's not sure what to do with the other until the hand at her hip tugs her forward, her chest flush against Noctis's, squishing her lips against her teeth. He finds her free hand in the dark, groping his way down her arm to grab her palm and press it against his boxers, over his hardening cock. He gasps into her mouth when she takes initiative, wrapping gentle fingers tips around the contours through the fabric and rubbing short lines along his length, mapping the shape of it.

She finds the lip of the gusset, prepares to tease it open and reach inside just as Noctis slides his hands inside her top to grope her breasts. 

She squeals. 

The shower shuts off.

Ripping away from Noct's lips, her hands fly to her mouth, smothering the little noises she's so accustomed to making. Did Prompto hear her? Shit, her brother is right across the hall, no way he didn't hear that. Shit shit shit.

It's Noctis who rolls of the bed first. “You said dinner, right? Better get our move on if we want something good enough for Ignis's approval.” Oh, right, dinner. He pulls on a pair of pants she's sure was on the floor earlier, adjusts himself to sit comfortably in the crotch, and shakes his hair out. “I'll warn Gladio.”

The warmth in her cheeks starts to fade, so she shuffles out of Noctis and Prompto's bed on weak knees, and tries not to stumble following after him.

….

They stand together on the train. No lap dances this time around. Noctis stands behind her, his arms around her shoulders like a buff, toned necklace. And if she lays her cheek against his bicep, so what? No one knows them here. The jostling of the old car is almost worse standing up; she's got her whole side pressed up against the seat divide, her feet set wide, and an elbow around a pole for stability, but the train still throws her around at every stop. Noctis holds onto only her, his feet set wide enough to fit her between them, and taking advantage of the jostling and stumbling and relative privacy of the barriers to grind his dick against her ass and make it look natural. Or so she thinks, since no one is staring. Much. 

There's a woman in a corner seat whose eyes Iris keeps catching, but she shouldn't be able to see their hips from where she is. Just excessive PDA, between a couple of hot and bothered teenagers. Nothing unusual for public transportation. Nothing special to see here at all, Miss.

Noctis presses kisses into her neck and shoulder again, let's the natural sway of the train car rock his hands in ghostly brushes across her chest, and whispers filthy things in her ear the whole way downtown. 

Iris rewards him with whimpers and sighs, (not to mention the gasp he got for pressing his tongue against her neck, eliciting many more stares,) and pressing back against him for the fun of hearing him hiss. The ache in her belly grows with every rub, and she's dizzy with arousal by the time he relents and practically carries her off at their stop, grinning the whole while. 

On the platform he presses a kiss into her scalp. “Gotta find a bathroom,” he mutters, guiding Iris along like a toddler with a baby doll. Her gut jumps, juices leaking so heavily between her legs she's surprised her socks aren't just as soaked as her panties. Finally! Anticipation throbs through her.

There's no neutral single stalls at the station for them to claim, and women flow in and out of the ladies’ room too easily to sneak Noctis into a handicap stall for a quickie. Noctis takes her into the men's restroom without hesitation, not even checking for occupants first, but any occupants wouldn't have had time to turn around and see them before he pushes her into the first stall they pass, and locks the door. He peeks through the gap before turning around and presses a finger to his lips. 

He holds up three fingers, and points at the door. Winks. Iris is panting. Her heart feels like it's in her throat. Three men. If she makes a peep, three other men will know what they're doing in here. A pang of something unusual burns through her, scalp to toes, at the thought. Clips of gangbangs she didn't mean to watch flicker in her mind eye, but– she only wants Noctis right now.

She nods, wide-eyed.

Noctis moves first. His hands slip under her skirt, slowly sliding her ruined panties down her thighs, letting them fall around her ankles. Iris feels like she's breathing too loud. Can the others hear her? His hand caresses the sticky mess of her mound and she sucks in a gasp, swallowing her whimper as he spreads and teases her lips, clit, and slit. His pants hit the ground with a whisper of cloth, he grabs her hand much like he did this morning, and Iris knows what to do next. She doesn't need him to guide her this time.

With a surety born from being a dripping, horny mess all day (fuck, all _week_ if she's being honest,) Iris reaches her hands into Noctis's boxers and eases the band down with her wrists–loving how eager his cock looks, swollen red and bobbing around, heavy in her palm as she strokes it a few times, earning herself a deep kiss–and then she hooks the elastic under his balls like he had them the first time. There's something incredibly sexy she's found, about a man half dressed during sex.

She reaches for her zipper, to shed her vest and bare herself to him, give all of herself to her Prince, and finds his bigger hand stopping her, closing around her fingers. Together they pull the zipper only far enough to expose the cups of her bra, enough for her to feel the chill of the underground and shiver for his knuckles dragging against her throat. 

Gently, slowly he takes her by the shoulders and manipulates her until she's turned around. She tries not to gasp when she feels his dick against the crack of her ass, tries not to whimper in anticipation with Noctis pressing himself against her so tight in the way she's missed. Even without the skin on skin contact, it's pleasantly stifling. His arm snakes between them, grabbing for his cock, moving her skirt away, and she fails to not make a noise when he drags its solid massive length along her bare ass.

“Shhh,” his breath is hot and wet on her ear, he covers her mouth with the hand that isn't on his dick, teasing her lips open with first one finger, then two. Instinctively, Iris tries to lick her lips and ends up licking Noct's fingers instead–he plunges them both into her mouth and tells her to put one foot up on the toilet seat. 

She can feel the chill on her labia now, slick as they are, and then Noctis is pressing her forward, folding her down against her raised knee and pushing his burning cock up between her spread thighs to rest against her slit. “Noooctiss,” she tries to moan around the fingers in her mouth but can't make the sounds right and just sort of groans instead. The fingers shift deeper into her mouth, caressing her tongue, and it's weird. It's so weird, and she's seen it in the pornos but never really understood why until he starts languidly thrusting his fingers in and out of her mouth. She's still not sure she understands, but tightens her lips around them like she thinks one might do for a blow job, gurgling in pleasure as his cock starts to sink, sinfully, achingly, slow between her folds. Six! She wants to scream! They gurgle up in her throat but she can't let herself let them out.

Why is this so hot? 

The strange men outside go on with their business. She can hear water running, urinals and toilets flushing. Belts jingle and shoes click, and Noct's gentle glide drives her crazy. If he goes too fast they'll hear the slap of skin on skin, and the slick squelch of her drenched and needy cunt, and she won't be able to keep quiet. The drag and stretch of his cock is fantastically satisfying in its steady rhythm, she can imagine the way it must look sinking into her, clenches around it when he pulls out. If the men out there only knew–

She has to bite back the scream, literally sinking her teeth into Noct's fingers making him yelp into her hair, when the orgasm overcomes her senses. Her feel slips off the toilet, and her arms shoot out to catch herself, thudding against the tiled wall on one side, fingers grasping and scrabbling for purchase along the grout, the other goes to her mouth, in attempt to muffle the wailing cries she can't keep inside. Her knees go weak, and radiating waves of warmth burn her nerves to a satisfying crisp.

Without a dick to guide or a mouth to fill, Noctis's hands are free to wrap around her waist, holding her up with his palm flat against her pelvis and his thrusting picks up pace, pushing her back against him even as he's pulling out from between her fluttering walls. The other grabs at Iris's hand against the tiles, holding her fingers almost painfully between his own, he draws it up over to play with her breasts, holding her whole body against him while she shudders from orgasm and his hips rock against hers. His breath turns ragged against her neck, she leans her head back to rest on his shoulder and gets an awkward angled kiss in return. He slams their hips together one more time, and then spasms himself, hugging her tighter and mixing his burning seed in with her natural juices.

His thrusts turn lazy and stilted, riding his orgasm out in the added slick from his cum, the both of them panting hard and not caring at all if anyone hears them.

There's no way to clean up from this without getting caught, but Iris finds she doesn't care to clean up. When the panting has calmed, she pulls her panties back up, he puts his dick away sticky, and they sneak out of the men's room with cum drooling down her leg to get dinner for their families.

…

“Took you long enough,” Gladdy remarks, when the two return to the hotel laden with plastic takeout bags. “Where'd you go, _Saxhom?”_

Noctis laughs. “Might have been faster if we had. You should have seen the wait, big guy. Like all of Lestallum wanted Tozu to cook for them tonight.” 

“Plus you eat so much, Gladdy, we _had_ to make sure to get enough for everyone. That takes time!” Iris chimes in, plopping one bag down in front of her brother. “This is all for you, so don't you go mooching off my plate again.” 

Gladio's hoots seem to summon the others. Tally distributes napkins and forks, while Ignis takes it upon himself to divvy up the dinner. 

And if Iris and Noctis sit closer than usual, with their thighs pressed together, no one thinks anything of it. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I'm probably not going to do more," I say, as I immediately start brainstorming new chapters.

The sun is starting to set, burnishing the skyline a misty orange, and painting the smear of clouds over Cleign a brilliant pink. Anyone else wouldn't think much of the time, except to remark on the beauty of nature. But with Noct behind the wheel it means they'll be stopping at the very next sign of civilization. Lestallum's power plant is starting to peak up over the horizon–it's maybe another hour or two to the cities outer limits–but boy he’s not up for driving in the dark tonight. And Ignis is enough of a nervous wreck without being hopped up on Ebony to be taking over the driving any time soon. 

None of them are really in prime daemon fighting shape after last night. 

Civilization is found, in loose definition, in the parking lot of the Burbost Souvenir Emporium. The way they fall into their gas-stop routine is almost robotic. As soon as the Regalia pulls up to the single pump, her passengers spill out onto the dirty cement to get on with their night. Gladio stretches huge arms over his head on his way over to reserve the derelict caravan. Noct fills the tank, and joins Ignis, who has already put himself and Prompto to work inside the cramped trailer home. And, never one to let his charge rest prematurely, Ignis sends Noctis in search of drinks for their meal. “Anything will do, Highness, but if they happen to carry Ebony…”

Sighing, if just for the sake of maintaining his too-cool-for-this image, Noctis drags his feet into “The Hottest Hot Spot in Cleign,” according to a fading cling decal in the window. But ‘hot’ it is not. The so called _emporium_ might have better filled its own shoes in its heyday, but all Noctis finds now are aisles of short, dusty shelves displaying a sad assortment of trinkets spread just a little too far apart to look plentiful. He picks up a hand-shaped toy that claims, via peeling neon sticker, to be perfect for a genuine round of applause and gives it an experimental wave. The sad _smacka-smack-smack_ isn't really worth the 75 gil clearance tag.

He passes the usual truck stop trinkets; a collection of glass anaks mass produced in Accordo, shot glasses and spoons etched with Cleigns famous landmarks, and sun-washed coloring books for bored children. But there's unusual things too; little plastic bins of rubber moogle erasers, colorful chocobo finger puppets, and Lil’ Malbuddy themed stress balls. A wall of stickers for windows and bumpers, and odd ball candies that Noctis hopes look as aged as they do for the aesthetic. There's a stack of books on cactuar varieties he actually picks up and flips through, for all they're bulky blocks of cardboard intended for teaching toddlers their colors. 

He finds a standing cooler at the back of the store, and a rickety little shelf of more… _adult_ themed knick knacks alongside it. Magnets and keychains bearing swear words, travel sized toiletries in inappropriate shapes, and raunchy but witty bumper stickers arranged artlessly above a single pin up calendar in torn plastic. (The petite girl posing for April, with her splayed fingers messing up her short dark locks, and big honest eyes staring up and out of the teaser, sends a very specific sort of pang through his guts.) Its date isn't even remotely current, he notes.

The cooler at least is stocked with more up-to-date merchandise. _This is the only thing keeping them in business, I'll bet,_ he thinks, ignoring the Ebony selection and picking out four random beers to fill a paper carrier. The door slides shut on its own. But instead of walking away, Noctis catches his eye on something shiny behind him. More novelty junk. But. Perforated chains of foil squares hang off a crooked hook. Each one is printed with a blocky approximation of one of Cleign's iconic landmarks, and “THANKS FOR COMING!” in stylized metallic yellow letters arching around the edges.

Snorting, he snaps a quick picture, texts **dude lmfao** , and sends it to Prompto. After a moment, he takes one of the pin-up girl too. Since his phone was out anyway.

Thats just for him though.

At the front counter he pays for the four terrible beers, and slips his receipt and change into a pocket already full of novelty condoms.

"Come again," says the clerk.

….

Iris lays on her belly, diagonal across the bedspread with her knees crossed–top off, bra on–and scrolling furiously through her phone. Noct’s hanging shirtless over her back, caging her bare shoulders between his elbows so he can watch the screen fly by from over head. His hips rub along her legs, tidal and rhythmic. The fabric of his fatigues sliding along the tender skin of her thighs is hypnotic. Distracting.

She's forgotten once already what exactly she's looking for.

For all he's breathing through his teeth, the breath against her scalp is even and controlled. A conspicuous lump bumps her butt ever few passes. (And maybe she strains her hips back once or twice, just to hear his breath hitch when he cusses.) Her own breaths come in stilted little _hnnn_ s and _guh_ s, timed to the ebb and flow of his grinding, her body shuddering occasionally from the stimulation. 

She's too wet to concentrate anymore. _Forget the porn_ , she wants to scream, _just fuck me already!_ Iris's thumbs blur as she searches for the gifs she'd seen a few nights ago. She'd barely studied it before tripping over an intense climax–after she imagined Noctis holding her the same way–that left her heart pounding through her ribs. She knew she had to show him. To have it for real. Aauugh, why didn't she just save it before she fell asleep?

“Hey, go back up a sec,” Noct's hips still as he shifts all his weight over to one arm. He scrolls the feed back himself, settling on a still frame of an intimately entwined couple. “Why don't we try that?”

“Oh…” Iris drinks in the mindless pleasure on the woman's face, the man's long hands swallowing her supple splayed hips, the angle and depth of their connection, and feels a new layer of heat spreading through her belly. “Yeah, sure,” she breathes. _Anything you want, if you touch me like that._

“Cool,” Noctis shimmies off her. The way he stands up on his knees traps her legs beneath him. Iris starts to push herself up onto her palms but Noctis catches her elbow and manhandles her upright.

His arms are warm across her belly, his hands gentle in their exploration of her skin. She _hyeeck_ s and shudders as his palms run down her sides, fingertips digging into and caressing her hips before drawing back up over sensitive skin, criss crossing her chest, and slip under the band around her ribs. She swears and shivers when he starts groping around inside the cups. His dick jumps in response. “You look so cute like this,” he laughs, ”but let's get this off.” Almost automatically Iris's arms rise to allow him to shuck the bra away from her body. It lands somewhere in the direction of where his shirt and her underwear have been laying forgotten. 

His hands go right back to playing with her breasts, massaging and pinching them together, tugging on her nipples until she squirms. “N-noct.” Her whine is as needy and light as she can make it. Twisting in his tight embrace and reaching behind her for his waistband is awkward, but he takes her hint and loosens up enough for her to shimmy his pants and underwear off his hips, at least. His cock jumps up under her skirt, bouncing against her bare cheeks. Her vagina twinges in anticipation. Shuddering, Iris wraps her fingers around his drooling erection and gives it several halting strokes. The angle is awful and her nails catch on his skin, but he still groans deep in his chest and squeezes her tits hard enough to make her mewl. 

Stars, she hopes those marks don't fade too soon.

When he's a panting wreck, he pulls away from her. “Off.” He tugs at her skirt, and crawls off the bed to stumble out of his pants, only remembering his forgotten prizes when the pocket crinkles under his foot. Iris hurriedly rolls onto her back and kicks her skirt to the floor. Fully barred, she rocks back up on her knees to find Noctis naked (a sight she hopes she never tires of) and fumbling with a foil wrapper. 

A condom, she realizes. He bought condoms for her. (For _them_!) There's an emotion burning under her ribs, completely unrelated to her throbbing arousal, that marks this as significant. 

The condom rolls over his erection, smooth as the sweat down her back. He catches her staring and winks. 

Noctis moves like a cat then, descending upon her with feline grace and a determined hungry look in his eyes. His hands flow over her thighs, curl around narrow hips to knead the flesh of her ass. Long fingers encroach on sensitive, dripping lips, but remain infuriatingly distant in their descent, caressing instead the silky skin of her inner thighs. 

There's no warning when he grabs her hard under her butt and lifts her bodily off the bed. Iris yelps in surprise, flailing arms over his taught shoulders and clinging around his neck. The position presses his face directly into her cleavage, his nose nuzzling at her clavacle as he turns his face either direction to kiss and tongue and nip at her plush breasts. The hands under her move again, lifting her higher and shifting her onto one arm (Iris marvels at his strength; he's no Gladdy in size, but showy mass clearly isn't everything,) holding her against him like his arm were a swing. Ever so slightly Noctis spreads Iris's legs with his free hand. Fingers swipe unceremoniously through soaked labia, slicking themselves in her juices. His face can't quite reach the sweet spot between her legs, but he still works his lips along her leg, working sticky fingers up into the heat of her core and dragging them out at angle just to hear the interested noises she makes. His arm can't support her weight for too long, however, and he has to take his fingers away when the muscles start to quiver.

He doesn't warn her, just lets her fall off his arm. He fully intended to catch her, would never her fall, though she yelps and flails in the seconds it takes to slide into a bridal hold.

Their bodies flush, he supports her knees and shoulders, giving him the angle to catch her pouting mouth under his. Noctis wants to kiss her gently, soft and apologetic, but the needs boiling under his skin find the delicate heat between her lips enthralling. The little aborted sounds she makes when he sneaks his tongue under hers are fascinating. He wants to sink into the warmth of her mouth and make her sing. But. Stray thoughts of other warm places he could be sinking into make his cock twitch with interest. 

Spinning them around to face the drawn curtains, he falls back onto the bed. The mattress creaks under their weight, bouncing them hard enough to force their kiss to break. She gasps, he laughs. 

Feet planted on floor, he lowers Iris against his splayed legs and holds her hand as she arranges herself in his lap. Her legs straddle him in reverse, but aren't long enough to support her fully on the mattress with him between them. Her knees slide against his thighs, her buttocks against his abs, when she uses their clasped hands to leverage herself, and Noctis plants his forehead between her shoulder blades to watch the show. Iris shifts, dropping her free hand to catch his dick in her fingers and line him up to her entrance. 

He breathes through his nose and holds her hand tighter, smothering any reflexive urges to thrust his hips up into the inviting heat at his head. The urges grow stronger, and harder to repress, as she slowly takes him into her. Situated, Iris lets her fingers fall away and shudders. It so so good, and she's barely taken any of him yet. She breathes deep, puts all her weight into Noctis's palm, and inches oh so steadily downward. His breath on her back is like fire. Her body tingles and twitches, pleasure trickling through her, turning her brain to static, and escaping out her throat in a _oo-oo-ohh_ so high-pitched, the neighbors might think Noctis was letting the air out of a balloon.

Bottoming out raises the flesh on her arms, pressing a contented gasp out from her lungs. 

Buried in her burning core, Noctis wimpers, his face resting in the crib of her neck and shoulder. He pants against her skin, breathing deep, and willing her to move. She struggles, but doesn't do enough to provide that coveted friction. Without the proper support from her legs, she finds she can't ride him like she did their first time. The thickness stretching her inside feels magnified by the sting of taught skin between her legs, building her craving for stimulation. She gropes blindly for his other hand. “Help me,” she moans, “I can't do it.” Nodding, Noct positions his arm like the first, clamping her fingers tight within his own. Her walls clench around him and she presses down on his arms, and finally, shaking, raises those precious inches up his length. The drag of the fall is smoother, he presses up on her hands to aid her rising, pulling down for the fall. 

It's horribly slow. And fucking wonderful. Up and down, she bounces in slow mo. He draws his knees together when both his arms start to shake. Guiding her fingers to grip his knees instead, Noctis plants his hands on the fronts her hips, like the faceless man in the picture, feeling the press of his cock though her skin.

She cries out on the first thrust, moans so hard he feels it in his hands on the second-third-fourth, and comes on the last. Desperate to make her feel as good as possible, he plants an arm behind him and leans on it to sheath himself as deep as she’ll take him. Shallow rolls of his hips provide delicious bites of friction between contracting muscles, the slicked latex allowing for more maneuvering than he normally might get. 

_ah! ah! ah! ah!_ Iris, her mind numb with endorphins, can't control her voice. Each roll of Noct's hips under hers sends a new seismic wave of orgasmic sensation radiating through her limbs.

“Shit that feels good,” Noctis groans, feeling the pressure building in his body, but something is still missing. Iris is limp and pliant, sagging into in his lap and therefore easy to manipulate with an arm around her waist. Lowering them both down onto the blankets, he pushes them sideways, and pulls on her leg just enough to give himself the space he wants to chase his own orgasm. 

Iris, cooing in time to his rocking hips, shifts to get her hands between her legs. Noctis pauses for nimble fingers wrapping around his half buried cock like a ring. A wiggling sensation says she's started rubbing her clit, and _fuck_ , that pressure when she squeezes her fingers, that's what he needs. Resuming his rocking draws a keen from Iris. The fingers around his dick tighten… and he's done. Checked out.

Iris's leg slips from his hand, digging instead into the soft flesh of her hips as his cock throbs and jumps, spitting thick globs of semen deep within Iris's body. He can't help the gurgling moan that escapes his throat with a bit too much volume (Iris must be wearing off on him.) She rolls her hips helpfully, making him shudder, still working her clit with ragged breaths.

When he regains controller of his limbs, he pulls out. Iris whines, “not yet!” 

He smiles a kiss against her forehead. “Gimme a sec, babe.” The way she blushes makes his heart flutter. But now’s not the time to examine that reaction, though. He shucks the condom, ties it neatly, and tosses it aside.

Iris watches him, lying on her back, pretty little mouth agape, touching herself. Noctis rather likes the sight. He crawls back onto the bed, caging her lithe body with within tired arms and strong legs. Brown eyes widen, and he leans in to fill her beautiful mouth with his own again. She's delightfully responsive, moaning and crying around their tongues, panting when they break. Her hands keep working her clit and slit. 

There's a decision to make, at that point, because he's not sure if he wants to get her off on _his_ fingers or let continue on her own. (Or start another round for himself… but there's always tomorrow.)

He places a hand over hers, intending to pull takeover, when he choice is taken from him by the spasms suddenly wracking her body, forcing her spine to curl. He swallows down her keening himself, taking over for her shaking hands until her gasping turns to panting and she's able to lay back without issue. Noctis collapses gently atop her heaving body, running his fingers through her sweaty hair. 

“Good?” There's a laugh in his voice he can't quite hide.

“Nn-yea” Iris sighs, closing her eyes. “'s pr-guhd.”

He remembers, how she goes sleepy and cute after sex. He's not jealous, but he can't let her nap yet. 

“Come on Iris, clean up first. You're too sweaty to cuddle like this.” 

“Nnuuh…” she says, but lets him shuffle her into a shower anyway. The hot water is nice, and clean hair is nicer, but getting to have Noct's hands on her is best.

She falls asleep afterward, nestled down properly under the blankets with her Prince. 

(Noct stays wide awake, texting with Gladio.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the joke here is that condoms expire
> 
> (I tried the initial pose with my reference mannequins... and the girls arm fell off. so, please collect your complementary grain of salt at the door.)
> 
> //As is the way of Hyperfixation I have lost all interest in continuing this and kinda made myself uncomfortable with the ship, so I'mma send this off into the void. Thanks for reading <3

**Author's Note:**

> I have a half a plan to just. Keep adding chapters as I feel so inclined, but will mark this as complete because I also may not! I've never written smut before, so I may never feel like doing it again. :O 
> 
> Neither of my friends would be at all interested in beta'ing something like this, so please don't hesitate to point out errors or things that don't work. I wrote this in one afternoon, on my phone, and Swype rarely catches what I'm actually trying to say. So even if I've been over it a few times, I'm a pretty shitty proofreader.


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